


Surrender to Me

by Amikotsu



Series: Whumptober Prompts [5]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Bank Robbery, Flirting, Hostage Situations, M/M, Negotiations, POV Alternating, Uchiha Obito Lives, Uchiha Obito-centric, Whumptober, gunpoint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 03:09:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20900666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amikotsu/pseuds/Amikotsu
Summary: Obito spent the majority of his life running away from his problems. His friends called him slippery, said he could maneuver his way out of anything, and they were right. But on a Tuesday night, four blocks away from his rundown apartment, his luck finally changed. Someone caught him.





	1. Hello, Obito

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt is "gunpoint" so guns are obviously involved. I want everyone to be aware of that (even though I tagged it)!

Head down, hands stuffed into the pockets of his black uniform pants, Obito dragged himself home from another long night at the diner. He looked down at the cracked pavement, stepping over the fractured ground that tried to trip him. At three in the morning, most of the city slept, but not him. He’d had a late shift, but all of his shifts were late shifts. He preferred the evening shift, as he arrived at the end of dinner. Most of the patrons were regulars, people dragging themselves home, just as he dragged himself home, except they had enough sense to stop somewhere and grab a decent meal. Obito had no money, and the manager that night had made it very clear that Obito’s habit of _borrowing_ food wasn’t going to work anymore. Obito hated that guy. Iruka had a big head, but Obito had appreciated his looks. Iruka knew a little about Obito’s situation, but the guy believed in tough love. Obito didn’t want people to know he lived off charity, that he had a nasty problem with addiction. He’d given up alcohol three months ago, and he’d maintained a job, for the first time in years, but he hadn’t stopped gambling; in fact, he was about twenty grand in the hole, so every penny went to that debt. Stopping at an intersection, Obito reached around himself and untied the apron hanging around his waist. While the light warned him not to cross the street, he looked both ways and stepped out onto the street. The sign didn’t know shit. 

He heard the sound of tires on asphalt, so he raised his head and looked to his right. A car slowly pulled out of a parking space, seeming to cruise toward his direction. At first, he didn’t recognize the tinted windows and the shape of the headlights, but when the flickering streetlight hit the car and the dark paint became deep blue, his lone eye went to the license plate. He bolted, flying across the street and cutting down an alley that led to a busier part of town. He looked over his right shoulder, a stupid move that sent him tripping over a garbage can. He kicked the can aside, scattering trash all over the ground, but another look back revealed that the car had stopped to block that end of the alleyway. The backdoor on the passenger side swung open and Obito saw the shine of black dress shoes and the crisp lines on the dress pants, but he saw nothing more. His attention shifted to his escape route. Two figures emerged from the end of the alley, rising up from the shadows to cut off his exit. They were dressed in dark colors, black jeans with black hooded sweatshirts, and one carried a baseball bat. Obito wanted to joke about the stereotypical tough-guy act, but he was a cornered animal then, and angering the two seemed unwise. 

Obito looked along the brick walls and saw a metal door on his left side that led into the sushi shop on the corner. The two men at the end of the alley started walking faster, but Obito was faster, always faster. Obito reached the backdoor and picked at the edge of the door, trying to pry it open. When he managed to get the door open, a pair of arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him back. A hand covered his mouth to muffle his scream. Obito watched the door swing shut, closing off his only escape route. The man that held him, Raido, swung him around and released him. Obito slammed into the opposite wall, the air leaving his lungs in one quick burst. He opened his mouth to scream, but Genma was there in an instant. With a knife pressed against his throat, Obito closed his mouth, the click of his teeth connecting the only sound he made. Danzo strolled down the alley, as if he had nowhere to be, as if he hadn’t witnessed the two manhandling Obito. Danzo removed the white gloves from his hands, then he tucked them into his right front pocket. Genma kept the knife to Obito’s throat, while Raido collected the baseball bat from its spot against the wall. Raido handed the bat to Danzo and the man nodded his thanks.

“Nice to see you again, Obito,” Danzo greeted Obito, the harsh frown on his face contrasting with what sounded like a neutral _hello_ between old friends. Obito hated the guy. He wanted nothing more than to spit in the man’s face. “I think you know why I’m here,” Danzo continued, ignoring Obito’s heated glare. “Tell me why I’m here.”

“How the hell should I know?” Obito barely finished the sentence before the bat connected with his stomach. The knife moved from his throat, which was a wise decision on Genma’s part, since Obito jerked forward. The knife would have easily slit his throat. Obito groaned in pain and rested his hands over his stomach, trying to get a mental image of his insides. “I’m behind on payments, alright? You didn’t have to hit me!”

“I barely touched you. Listen to what I’m saying and stop acting like a fool. This meeting will go smoothly,” Danzo replied, handing the bat off to Raido. Danzo stepped forward and grabbed a handful of Obito’s hair. Obito gritted his teeth as Danzo jerked on his hair, pulling his head up so that they could make eye contact. “Do you want to lose the other eye? I could match the scars on the right side of your face,” Danzo offered, seemingly amused at the words.

“I don’t know about that. Can you compete with being a prisoner of war?” Danzo frowned at Obito’s words, then took a step back. Raido swung the bat and hit Obito in the gut again. Obito doubled over and gagged a few times, choking up stomach acid and bits of a sandwich he’d managed to steal from behind Iruka’s back. Obito hated the fact that his eyes burned with unshed tears. His family members had always called him a crybaby. “Is that all you got?”

“Hit him again.” Danzo barely had the words out before Obito took another swing to the gut. Obito’s knees buckled and he dropped to the ground. Rocks from the cracked pavement dug into his knees, broken glasses puncturing his pants. How the hell was he supposed to explain his uniform pants to the manager tomorrow? “You owe us twenty thousand dollars, and the generosity has run out. We expect a payment, in full, within seventy-two hours. Do you understand me? Repeat it.”

“Did Hiruzen send you after me, or is this another one of your damn side quests? You protect from the shadows, right? Everything for the good of your little company,” Obito snapped. He punctuated his words by spitting on Danzo’s shiny shoes. The glob of blood and snot and saliva clung to the toe of Danzo’s right shoe. Danzo sighed and Raido hit Obito on the back with the baseball bat. Obito fell flat on the ground. He’d turned his head at the last moment, so his right cheek connected with the pavement instead of his nose. Obito groaned and tried to push himself up, but his arms shook, refusing to bear the weight. 

“Congratulations, Obito. You have forty-eight hours now. You can thank Hiruzen for the extension. I wanted to carve out your eye today, but he seems to favor a kindness I’ll never understand.”

“Forty-eight hours for twenty thousand? I’ll never be able to come up with that. So what, you’ll take my eye? You’re sick.”

“If you make me come after you again, I’m taking your life. Pay what you owe, Uchiha.” Danzo rubbed the dirty tip of the right shoe on Obito’s side, using Obito’s shirt to shine the shoe. Danzo pulled back and kicked Obito’s side and Obito screamed, the pain racing all along his ribs. He took a shaky breath and tried lifting himself again, but Danzo placed a foot on his back and drove him right back to the ground. “I think he understands. Let’s go,” Danzo spoke, addressing Genma and Raido. 

Obito turned his head to watch them walk away. He placed his palms on the ground, dirt and broken glass digging into his palms, but he couldn’t get the strength to stand. He rolled over onto his back and stared up at the cloudy night sky, his background music the sound of the car starting, the sound of the tires against the asphalt. Obito had forty-eight hours to find twenty-thousand dollars, and he had a job paying minimum wage and a bank account with six dollars and some change. Obito cursed, slamming a fist down on the ground, repeating the motion several times. He knew he had a problem, but Obito thought that moving to Tanzaku, getting a job at a twenty-four hour diner, would keep him under the radar. The slot machines called to him, but cards promised him more. He liked the sound of cards shuffling. He liked the building anticipation before the dealer flipped the card. Blackjack had ruined him. Without even trying, he buried himself in debt. And then poker happened.

Obito covered his face with his hands and focused on his breathing. He tried to control his thoughts, but his mind wandered. The promise of death brought up the worst thoughts, like his time in solitary confinement in the Iwagakure torture and interrogation headquarters. The buildings stood tall around him, and he felt so small, smaller than he’d felt in over twenty years. He remembered a family that had never wanted him. No, Madara had wanted him, and just that thought made his stomach roll. He didn’t think about Madara. Obito shoved those thoughts away as he pushed himself to a seated position. Everyone had told him he’d never amount to anything, and he thought he’d proven them wrong by joining the military and fighting in the Third War. He’d been young and naive, and he’d grown into a bitter, jaded man. 

A woman had almost changed him, but he’d driven her away years ago. He’d self-medicated with drinking and gambling, bouncing between the two, mixing the two, and she had mattered less and less. He remembered what it felt like to hit her, and he was glad that she’d left him. He wasn’t good for her; he wasn’t good for anyone. Sobriety didn’t return him to some carefree child. Sobriety only made his faults brighter, louder, all-consuming. Obito wasn’t one to roll over and die though. Obito knew how to run away, but some part of him knew how to stay, to persevere, though that part was almost microscopic in nature. Madara had brought that out in him. The only family member that had shown any interest in him back then. Obito had once thought of Madara as a savior, but after the war, after Obito had been returned to Konoha, Madara had taken one look at him and told him to get lost. And Obito was alone again.

“What am I going to do?”

“You can start by standing up. I don’t know what you’re sitting in right now, but it looks pretty gross.”

“Shisui?”

Shisui had a large paper bag in his arms, so he looked at Obito from around the side. Obito searched for the humor he’d heard in Shisui’s voice, but the man looked grim. With the street light at Shisui’s back, Obito saw nothing beyond the frown, though he searched for the little stress lines associated with their family. Shisui was a distant cousin, someone else who didn't fit the mold of the great Uchiha clan. When Obito failed to stand, Shisui hugged the paper bag to his chest with one arm and went to help Obito stand. Obito’s upper body felt as if it were one large bruise, the purple, black, yellow monstrosity only hidden by his grey, short-sleeved work shirt. One arm outstretched, hand pressed against the building for balance, Obito looked from the paper bag to his cousin. He easily connected the dots, and he laughed, the sound small and choked, but present. Shisui had brought him groceries, like some sort of food angel. Obito knew he had blood running from the corner of his mouth, since he tasted the metallic tang along his tongue. He’d bitten his cheek the moment the bat had connected with his back. There hadn’t been time to stop himself.

“I saw Danzo, Obito. I thought you stopped gambling. That was the deal, remember? I’d help you out and you’d stop gambling,” Shisui frowned, shoving the bag of groceries into Obito’s chest. Sometimes they bickered like a married couple, but Obito usually had nice conversations with Shisui. Shisui had a wicked sense of humor, and he was incredibly intelligent. “You know, under this light, with the blood on your face, it’s hard to see why women don’t flock to you.”

“Not right now,” Obito mumbled, dismissing the attempt at humor. Obito lowered his hand from the building and tested his balance. Confident that he wouldn’t fall, Obito held the large paper bag in his arms and followed Shisui out of the alley. “How much of that did you see?”

“Well,” Shisui stalled, turning away to avoid Obito’s gaze, “pretty much all of it. You owe them a lot of money, and Danzo doesn’t play around with money. What are you going to do?”

“Didn’t you hear me asking myself that same question? I don’t know,” Obito muttered, lowering the bag a little to see its contents. Shisui had purchased a lot of ramen, too much ramen, but Obito saw some fresh oranges and apples buried underneath all the cups and packs. “Don’t tell Fugaku and Mikoto about this. I don’t want the rest of the family knowing about my business. The last thing I need is for Madara to find out and figure out where I’m living.” Obito shuddered at the thought. The man was manipulative and violent; Obito didn’t want to go down that road again. 

“Hey, they might be able to help. They can talk to Hiruzen,” Shisui began, cut off by Obito’s snort. “They can,” Shisui insisted.

“Hiruzen might be the head of the company, but Danzo has the reigns. He gets away with too much shit,” Obito said, lips twisting for a scowl. Shisui nodded, silently agreeing, then he ran through some job listings that he’d read in the newspaper. Obito focused on his own thoughts, though he nodded every now and then. When Shisui laughed, Obito turned to look at the man. “What?”

“I said you need to rob a bank, maybe _two_ banks,” Shisui laughed, nudging Obito’s side. Obito hissed in pain and Shisui quickly apologized. “I didn’t mean to. I forgot. Maybe you can pick up another job, two jobs, and make some kind of payment arrangement. Show you’re good for the money.” Shisui took the grocery bag back when Obito started clutching his throbbing side. Obito glared, but Shisui continued on, unperturbed. “I might be able to get you a job at the cafe.” 

“Wait. What if I did?”

“What?”

“What if I robbed a bank?” Obito waited for a reaction, any reaction. Beside him, Shisui arched a brow, then the man burst into laughter. Sighing, frustrated, Obito yanked the bag from Shisui’s arms and stalked down the street. Shisui called out for him, but Obito kept walking. Shisui eventually caught up with him, just as he was letting himself into his apartment building. “You’re the one who suggested it,” Obito pointed out, still irritated at Shisui’s response. “It’s a good idea,” he added.

“Wrong. It’s a terrible idea. You’ll spend a long time in jail, then you’ll get out and Danzo will murder you for failing and avoiding him. At least if you get another job and ask Fugaku and Mikoto for help, you actually have a chance. I mean, what are you going to do, Obito? Call up your old friends and see if they want to throw their lives away too? That’s crazy,” Shisui laughed. Lost in thought, Obito hit the button for the elevator. While Shisui watched the numbers light up above the door, Obito mulled over the suggestion, even if Shisui had laughed. “Oh no. You’re thinking about this. This is your ‘I’m thinking about this’ face,” Shisui muttered, slapping a hand to his forehead. “It’s crazy and dangerous and wrong.”

“Is it? Banks rip people off everyday,” Obito shrugged. The elevator stopped on the first floor and Obito entered first, then he pressed the button for the fifth floor. Shisui hesitated on joining him, then finally sighed and stepped inside. The elevator was old and slow, but Obito didn’t think he had the strength to make it up the stairs. “I know a friend that’s crazy enough to go along with this. Hoshigaki Kisame.”

“Didn’t he just get out of jail for armed robbery?”

“We won’t get caught.”

“That’s reassuring.”

The elevator stopped on the third floor and the interior light kicked off. While Shisui moved to the button panel and started pressing the button labeled _five_ over and over again, Obito leaned against the back of the elevator and stared up at the flickering numbers above the door. The red emergency lights near the floor and ceiling kicked on, bathing everything in crimson, and Shisui mumbled to himself about Obito’s apartment building. Shisui moved to the back of the elevator and took a stance next to Obito. Arms crossed over his chest, Shisui reminded Obito of a petulant child. Since they had time, Obito reached into the paper bag and grabbed one of the oranges. His stomach had settled and he felt the beginnings of hunger pains. With nowhere else to go, he started peeling an orange. Shisui dug through the bag for an apple and wasted no time biting into the fruit. 

“I’ll call Kisame and Sasori,” Obito said, thinking out loud. Shisui made a face, but Obito knew the man didn’t know Sasori. Kisame wasn’t a bad guy. Obito had lusted after him for a while in school; kids had bullied Kisame because of the fact that he emigrated from Kirigakure. Obito had seen Kisame beat down a lot of kids during their time at Konoha Academy, and Obito appreciated that kind of strength. Kisame was the muscle Obito needed. Noticing Shisui’s wrinkled nose, Obito sighed. “Do _you_ want in?”

“I can drive. I want a cut of the money though,” Shisui answered, not even hesitating. Obito laughed and stuffed an orange slice into his mouth. Shisui regarded him for a moment, then nodded. “I think I know a guy too,” Shisui added, an afterthought shared between them. Obito waved a hand, motioning for Shisui to continue. “Itachi wants away from his dad, and I want to get him out. That money would help. He doesn’t want to be a doctor. He wants to be a politician. Fugaku is,” Shisui paused, frowning, “well, you know how Fugaku is.”

“No. I’m not taking Fugaku’s kid to rob a bank.”

“Come on. You owe me. Itachi is intelligent and he’s good with organization,” Shisui began, intent on listing all of Itachi’s best qualities. Obito took Shisui’s apple and shoved it into Shisui’s mouth, cutting the man off. 

“This is a bank robbery. We aren’t looking for a secretary,” Obito frowned, shaking his head. “No Itachi.” Shisui took a large bite of the apple and made a show of chewing, revealing the chewed fruit every time he opened his mouth. He took joy in Obito’s disgust. Finally, Obito slapped his arm and Shisui swallowed. “What other qualities does he have? Don’t make me regret changing my mind,” Obito caved. He needed help, and if Shisui wanted to help, and Itachi wanted to help, then he would take all the help he could get, despite the attachments to Fugaku, the chief of police. 

“He can get a scanner and we can keep an eye on the cops, plus he’s actually tech savvy,” Shisui said, grinning. Obito knew he’d missed some story associated with the tech savvy portion of Shisui’s words, but he wasn’t interested enough to ask about it. “Banks have cameras and security systems. Itachi spent a summer setting up security systems, remember? He wanted to save to get Sasuke a new smartphone.” Obit did remember, so he nodded. Banks did have a lot of cameras. Biting his lower lip, Obito looked over at the flickering lights above the elevator doors. The elevator liked to stall, but it came up relatively quickly. “Consider it as repaying a debt.”

“If we get caught because you or Itachi screw this up,” Obito began, his tone harsh. Shisui held up both hands in a placating gesture, as if surrendering before the argument had begun. “Fine. You are in charge of getting us a car. You will stay with the car _at all times_ and listen to the scanner. You’ll alert us if cops are inbound.” As if considering his last words, Obito reached up to swipe a hand over his messy hair. “We could stage a distraction for the police. Do you know anyone willing to do that?”

“Let me check my contacts for other people who have successfully robbed a bank,” Shisui replied, punctuating the sentence by biting into his apple. Obito narrowed his eye, but he ignored the smart remark. “Ask Sasori or Kisame. What does Sasori do? Is he a criminal too?”

“He’s an art teacher,” Obito replied, earning a strange look from Shisui. “He’s underpaid,” Obito added, as if that explained everything. In a way, it did. The emergency lights went out and the single overhead light came back. The elevator shuddered and groaned, but the two felt when it began moving again. When the elevator reached the fifth floor and the doors parted, Shisui rushed out into the hallway, leaving Obito to follow. Shisui stood outside of Obito’s apartment, a grin in place, while Obito fished around in his pockets for his keys. After he found the key, he jammed it into the lock and jiggled it a few times until he heard a click, then he pushed the door open. Shisui darted inside, leaving Obito to stare after the man. “Your girlfriend kicked you out again, didn’t she?”

“I love Anko, but she’s crazy,” Shisui replied, going right into the living room to collapse on the sofa. From the kitchen, Obito thought he heard Shisui complain about a spring up the ass, but Obito chose not to respond. “Let’s call these people,” Shisui said, a clap echoing off the apartment walls. 

“You don’t call Sasori before six. You don’t call Kisame before eleven,” Obito explained, his visible eye rolling. He heard the floorboards creaking, signaling Shisui’s approach, so he finished putting the ramen and fruit away and threw the paper bag into the trash. Shisui leaned on the kitchen island, that same stupid smile in place. “This isn’t a game. If we get caught, we could be arrested or killed,” Obito frowned, trying his best to get the smile to disappear. Instead, Shisui chuckled. What a weird guy. “That means go to sleep. Stop staring at me,” Obito muttered, shaking his head. He flicked Shisui’s right temple and walked back toward his bedroom.

“So I’ll just take the couch, alright?”

“You aren’t getting the bed. And if you say we can share, I’m throwing you out the front window.”

Shisui slept on the couch.


	2. It's Coming Together

Obito lay in bed and listened to the birds chirping and fluttering about. They perched on the telephone wires outside of his window and sang to one another. Obito cherished the sound, because he didn't know if he'd ever have such a beautiful morning. The forty-eight hour deadline swam to the surface of his mind, easily overwhelming him, dragging him down. Obito listened to any sounds in his apartment and he heard faint snores from down the short hallway, signaling that Shisui had stayed well into the morning. Afternoon slowly crept toward them. Judging by the time, Sasori had a free period, followed by a lunch, so Obito threw off his blankets, freeing himself from the hot cocoon, and reached over for his phone. The screen lit up, revealing the series of cracks on the screen, then Obito searched his contacts for the man's number. 

Sasori had started out as the friend of a friend. Obito had cut ties with the person years ago, couldn't even remember the guy's name, but Sasori had remained. Sasori was the kind of guy Obito liked. Obito had grown out of his childish ways and Sasori had acknowledged that change. Obito preferred people who didn't judge him for his past and his mistakes. Sasori had a past of his own, so they had a nonverbal agreement not to acknowledge their shortcomings. They'd had a deeper relationship, at some point, but they'd decided not to continue their sexual escapades. Sasori apparently met someone else, and Obito had let him go. 

"This better be good," Sasori answered. Obito sucked in a breath and choked on his own saliva. He pulled the phone away while he had a minor coughing fit, leaving Sasori to listen to his embarrassing display. When Obito recovered, Sasori let another minute pass, as if Obito would resume coughing. "I'm busy. What do you want?"

"I need to see you," Obito blurted out, sounding more desperate than he'd intended. Sasori huffed at the words. "Not for sex," Obito added, the words fast and running together.

"You must feel like reminiscing."

"Actually, I want to commit a crime with you."

"Is this some type of new-age flirting?"

"You make yourself sound so damn old, Sasori," Obito snorted, lips twitching for a fond smile. Sasori chuckled, the sound sending warmth through Obito. He'd missed the man's voice, and wasn't that pathetic. "I'm serious. I want to talk about it with you. Tonight. I know it's short notice, but I don't have the time to wait."

"Why would I be interested in committing a crime? Convince me," Sasori replied, considering Obito's last-minute offer. "Is this something minor, or is this something major?"

"It's not murder," Obito said, as if that would aid in convincing the man. "You don't make a lot of money teaching, and you always talked about retirement and focusing on your artwork. You wanted your own exhibit, remember? This would help."

"What time?"

"Come to my apartment at four."

"Fine."

Sasori muttered a quick _goodbye_ and hung up, cutting off the rest of Obito's convincing argument. Obito realized rather late that he'd succeeded in drawing Sasori into the fold. Obito went through his contacts again until he found Kisame, but his finger hovered over the call button. Kisame had just gotten out of jail. Obito mumbled to himself for a moment, going through pros and cons. Obito had visited him a few times in jail, but the last visit had been two months ago. Since then, they hadn't spoken. Obito pressed the call button, then he quickly hung up. He let his screen go blank and closed his eyes. The sound of his ringtone reverberated off the walls and bled into the hallway. Shisui's snores cut off and Obito scrambled to answer the phone, to cut off the pounding bass exploding from the speaker on his phone.

"You get scared?" Obito laughed, a small, embarrassed sound likely originating in the deepest recesses of his gut. Did no one say _hello_ anymore? "Obito?"

"Yeah, I'm here. I must have pocket dialed," he lied, sitting up in his bed. He rested his back against the wall, pillows shoved behind him to cushion his lower back. "How have you been? Are you adjusting well?"

"I just got out three days ago. I haven't had time to adjust. Why are you really calling me?" Kisame laughed then and Obito felt his cheeks warm, an obvious blush spreading across his face. "Did you miss me?"

"No! Why would I miss you? You're gross," Obito lied, greeted with another round of laughter. Obito waited for him to calm down, then continued speaking. "Remember why you went to jail? I want to do that."

"You?" Kisame whistled. "You don't have it in you." Obito bristled, but he took a breath to keep from a harsh verbal retort. Kisame was right, in a way. Obito had never considered robbing a bank. The idea made him uncomfortable, as if someone were slowly suffocating him, but he pushed through it, forcing himself to keep moving forward. "Are you serious about this?"

"I owe Hiruzen twenty thousand dollars and Danzo showed up. I have forty-eight hours to get him the money," Obito sighed. He patted his bed head down, then scratched at the scarred part of his chest. Sometimes he had twinges there, something about damage to his nerves. "I don't have a choice here. I could really use your help."

"Damn. You know I love you, Obito, but I can't do that anymore. I'm trying to turn my life around. I'm still on probation. If you were smart, and I know you are, you'd find another way."

"Sasori might be in. It'd be just like old times."

"You're dragging him into it?"

Obito thought of Sasori, the grumpy art teacher from a private academy. What if something went wrong? The police didn't just give up on cases. Obito remembered the sudden focus on cold cases. Since Fugaku had made police chief, fifteen cold cases had been reopened and solved. They would have to leave their homes and relocate. Obito thought about Shisui, his favorite cousin. Where would they go? Amegakure sounded nice, with its constant rain, grey overcast skies, and tall buildings. The place reminded him of a mixture of gothic and new age, an industrial city. Obito didn't know how long he'd left the line silent, but Kisame had allowed him time to think. Kisame knew him well.

"Alright. If you change your mind, give me a call. You know I trust you to have my back."

"Good luck, Obito."

Shisui stood in the bedroom doorway, half of his hair plastered to his head and the other half sticking up in the air. Obito left his bed and grabbed a clean shirt from the clothes basket on the chair next to his bedroom window. Once he pulled the shirt on, he turned and found the doorway empty. Obito knew he couldn't expect Shisui or Itachi to take such an important role in the robbery. Neither knew much about the criminal lifestyle. Obito left his bedroom and went right for the kitchen. Shisui had a pot of water on the stove and two cups of ramen sitting on the counter. The man had shoved his hair down to try and fix it, but one side was still higher than the other. Obito stood at the kitchen island and draped himself over it. 

"I'm guessing recruitment didn't go well," Shisui said, poking Obito's side. Obito groaned in response and waved a hand in Shisui's direction. "Kisame is still in, right?"

"Sasori might be in. Kisame said no. He's on probation and he doesn't want to go back to prison, I guess," Obito sighed, forcing himself upright again. He took in the frown on Shisui's face and nodded. "That's how I feel about it. He had experience. We need experience."

"Aunt Mikoto said you had a criminal record. What did you do?"

"Petty theft and vandalism. I was a juvenile."

"So this Sasori guy is bad too?"

"Technically, he doesn't have a record. One guy dropped the charges and a jury found him innocent," Obito shrugged, smiling. Shisui blinked a few times, then turned back to the stove. Obito peeled open the cups, only opening them halfway, then nudged Shisui's elbow. "If you want to back out, just say so."

"After this, I'm going to grab Itachi," Shisui said, choosing to ignore Obito's words. "What time do you want us here?"

"I told Sasori four. And grab some gyudon from the Uchiha district. I like that."

"You always take advantage of my kindness."

"I could always repay you with sex. It's barely incest."

"Your sense of humor is really disgusting sometimes."

The ramen was too salty and the noodles were still too firm, but Obito ate the food without complaint. After Shisui left, Obito curled up on the couch and put on a boring talk show. He dozed off to clapping and laughter. Three firm knocks on his front door disturbed his sleep. When he checked the clock, the blue numbers blurred together. Another round of knocking had Obito muttering curse words. Dressed in a pair of faded black sweats and a clean shirt with a ninja on the front, Obito deemed himself dressed enough to open the door and yell at the damn kid disturbing his nap. He jerked the door open, mouth open, words readied, but he found himself staring at red hair and red-brown eyes. Obito turned back toward the television. The clock read four. 

"I've been knocking for five minutes. You don't know how to answer the door, shinobi-san?" Sasori mocked Obito's shirt and stepped around him to enter into the apartment. Obito went to close the door, but a blonde slipped in and followed after Sasori. 

"Wait. Who the hell is this girl?"

"I'm a man, hm. And more of one than you'll ever be, shinobi-san," the blonde smirked, dazzling blue eyes causing Obito's mind to short circuit. He found it wrong that the man was so gorgeous, easily more beautiful than a lot of women Obito had seen. "So this is him? He doesn't look like much. How does an artist of your caliber end up with someone like him, hm?"

"He's a teacher. He's not a famous artist. And you're in my apartment. Show some respect," Obito frowned, still eyeing the man. Sasori snapped his fingers, the gesture performed between the two, meant to end an argument before it began. "I'm assuming he is somehow vital to our mission? Don't touch my stuff, blondie!" 

"Deidara," the blonde corrected, turning the television off and plopping down on the couch. Sasori lowered himself onto the couch, so Obito threw his hands into the air and went to claim the open spot next to Sasori. "Danna," Deidara said, clearly not addressing Obito.

"Brat," Sasori said, a slight narrowing of his eyes conveying an emotion Obito couldn't pinpoint. "He's a teller at Konoha United Bank. If you need twenty thousand, we need to hit Konoha United."

"Kisame told you. That," Obito began, cut off by more knocking. Sasori and Deidara looked back at the door, so Obito went to answer it. Shisui barged in with a paper bag, followed by Itachi. "Did you get the gyudon?" 

"Yes, and it cost me thirty dollars. Whoa. Who's she?" Shisui stepped into the living room and immediately took in Deidara. Deidara opened his mouth to correct Shisui, but Sasori placed a hand atop Deidara's shoulder. "Oh. You're together," Shisui frowned. He took Obito's place on the couch and started placing containers of food on the large coffee table. 

"I'm sorry about him," Itachi sighed, easily closing the door behind himself. "I was told I might be able to help you solve a problem."

"Just," Obito stopped and sighed, "just go sit down and get some food. I'll explain."

With no other seat available, Obito took a seat on the coffee table. They each had a cardboard container of gyudon, and Obito let them enjoy some of the food while he gathered his thoughts. Sasori, impatient as ever, stared at Obito, silently rushing him along. Itachi and Deidara knew one another, surprisingly, as they'd both been on their school's debate team. Deidara didn't seem to like Itachi, something Obito gathered from the dirty looks the blonde kept shooting Itachi. Shisui rambled on and on about his job at the newspaper, until Obito finally tired of hearing the same office gossip over and over again. Obito cleared his throat and everyone shifted focus to him.

"It looks like we're going to hit Konoha United. We'll have to hit it tomorrow. There's a deadline I need to meet. We need guns, disguises, and a car. Itachi, Shisui mentioned a police scanner," Obito spoke. Shisui held up a hand, as if they were in a classroom setting. "Yes, Shisui?"

"You never mentioned guns."

"We're robbing a bank. What did you expect?" Shisui turned to look at Deidara, caught between shock and anger. Deidara shrugged his shoulders and proceeded to stuff more noodles into his mouth, while Shisui turned to Itachi. "If you can't handle guns, then take your toys and go home, hm."

"It is a robbery, Shisui," Itachi said, seeming unbothered by the introduction of guns to their plan. "Shisui informed me that I will be in charge of the security system. I can have the scanner set up in the car for him. Did we have a distraction to divide the police force?"

"I had an idea," Sasori replied, not giving Obito a chance to speak. Deidara beamed and stuck his chopsticks into his container.

"What about an explosion? I can pick an abandoned building on the other side of town. It's my art!" Deidara waited for someone to join in on the excitement, but no one else spoke. Shisui covered his face with his hands, while Itachi slowly nodded.

"You want Deidara to blow up a building, Sasori? What the hell," Obito frowned, jabbing a finger in Deidara's direction.

"It isn't art, but he's very good with explosions. He thinks he was a terrorist bomber in another life," Sasori said, rolling his eyes. 

"It is art! Art is," Deidara began, interrupted by Obito groaning.

"No. No discussions on art right now. No subtle flirtations. We're trying to plan a bank robbery," Obito huffed. Deidara narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, but he didn't argue. "Fine. Blow up a building," Obito relented. Deidara blew Obito a kiss. "Where the hell did you find this guy?"

"I ask myself that same question," Sasori said, lips upturned for a partial smile. Obito felt a pang at the fondness hidden in Sasori's eyes. "I can get us guns. I know a guy."

"What? You're an art teacher. How do you know a dealer?" Shisui blurted out the words, clearly equal parts intrigued and horrified. Sasori smiled again, though it reminded Obito of a predator. "Never mind," Shisui mumbled. 

"What about a car?" Obito looked around at everyone, gaze lingering on each person. He'd initially thought of Shisui, but the car was very important. He didn't want Shisui to do something to jeopardize the mission. Shisui raised a hand and Obito sighed. "Are you sure?"

"I know how to hotwire a car. I'm sure," Shisui nodded. Itachi arched a brow at his cousin, so Shisui laughed. "Internet." 

"I can have the guns by noon tomorrow."

"I can have the bomb set and ready by then."

"The scanner can be bought from a pawn shop. I can get it by noon. I'm sure I can access the bank's network and security system. I can practice in the morning."

"The car is easy. I can do it before noon. Less chance of it being reported stolen before we're done."

"This is going to be fine," Obito mumbled. He closed his visible eye and counted to ten, then he grinned to himself. "Alright. We can do this, team."

"Let's give ourselves nicknames!" Shisui looked around at everyone, waiting for someone to disagree, but Sasori simply nodded. "How about we call ourselves the Akatsuki and," Shisui began, tapping his chin. "Sasori can be Akasuna. Deidara can be Senpai, Itachi can be Crow, Obito can be Tobi, and I can be Shunshin!"

"Why the hell am I Tobi? That's not creative at all. This is because I made you buy dinner," Obito frowned, refusing to believe he was actually pouting. Itachi snickered. "Fine. It's fine. We'll meet here at noon and go over some last minute details. We just might pull this off."


	3. How to Rob a Bank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for Kakashi's POV!

Kakashi hated Fridays. There was something about the influx of people that set him on edge. He'd had two other security guards scheduled for the day, but both had called off, one with a funeral and the other with a birth, two things on opposite ends of the spectrum of excuses. He should have been standing next to the row of tellers, but he lingered at the row of high tables, watching people write out deposit slips. He would have brought a chair onto the floor, but the head of security for ANBU, Shikaku, had found him sitting on the job one too many times. Kakashi hated his job, but he knew he'd never find an easier way to make money. 

In the history of Konoha United Bank, the oldest and largest bank in the city, only one person had attempted a heist, and that man, Orochimaru, had been apprehended just hours after the botched robbery. Kakashi hadn't worked at the bank back then, but he knew a guy who knew a guy, and so on. No, working at the bank was easy money. He watched people approach the counter; he watched people leave the counter. Kakashi remembered a time before his years as a security guard. He'd started out on the force, just like his dad, except something had gone wrong. With Kakashi, something always went wrong. He swore his life was some kind of daytime television show, riddled with angst, disappointment at every turn. A higher power really hated him. 

"So you're the only one today." Kurenai, from the savings and loan department, poked her head out of her office to greet him. She'd arrived late, and Kakashi wondered if she'd had a funeral or birth to attend to, as it seemed a running theme that Friday. 

"Just me," Kakashi smiled, the expression hidden behind a black mask. He wore the mask to deter people. He let them think he was contagious. Few people knew his trick. "It's another Friday."

"It's almost over. Six o'clock is coming on fast," she replied, using the same excuse she used every Friday. Kakashi checked the large clock on the wall behind the tellers. They had five hours to go. It wasn't _almost over_. "Do you have any plans for tonight?"

"Are you trying to ask me out, Kurenai-san?" Kakashi thoroughly enjoyed toying with the woman, knowing that she was engaged to Sarutobi Asuma, the heir to Hokage, the leading tech company in the world. Kurenai blushed and averted her eyes. 

"Of course not!"

"Maa, I don't have any plans. I had a date, but I canceled."

"You? You don't date."

Kakashi smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners. That was the point. He didn't date. Women threw themselves at him, as if he were a knight in shining armor, just waiting to rescue a wayward princess. He recognized the lustful look in their eyes, the way they took him in from head to toe, and he smiled and carried on with his day, each and every time. The bold ones approached him, and he never turned them down. He scheduled dates to show up late or to cancel at the last minute, and then he never called again. He'd never found a woman worth the effort, and men were too complicated. He found the needy ones, the ones with mommy or daddy issues, and he had enough of those himself; he didn't need the baggage, not when he had so much of his own. Kakashi wanted someone capable, someone bold and fiery. He wanted passion. He'd wait until he found that. 

"You're a real prick, you know that? I heard you left Suki from the restaurant down the block waiting for three hours. Your excuse was that you had to help a group of old ladies across the street. What a load," Kurenai snorted. She disappeared back into her room, and Kakashi heard the sound of her chair's wheels on the carpet. 

Kakashi walked over to her room and leaned against the doorway. "Maybe _you_ should date Suki, since you seem so concerned about her, Kurenai-san," Kakashi quipped. Kurenai narrowed her eyes at him, but he smiled, waved, and left. He expected her to follow him, but she didn't. She wasn't the fiery type. She wasn't the type to engage in any type of banter, and she avoided most confrontations; otherwise, he might have pursued a relationship with her. She might have been worth it. 

Kakashi crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. He stayed there, eyes scanning the people entering and leaving the building. When two o'clock approached, he found himself yawning. Boredom had set in, all-consuming. The lights flickered, one right after another, then the sprinklers kicked on. The tellers screeched and held their hands over their heads to try and shield themselves. Customers scattered, running toward the doors, but Kakashi heard the clicks of the electronic locks, one right after another. Someone had hacked into the system. Someone intended to rob the bank. He had a taser and pepper spray, nothing more, and the water made him hesitant to use the taser. Kakashi started going from person to person, examining faces, but he didn't reach the group in time. Three people separated and went for the cameras. Brown hair. Black hooded sweatshirts. Boots. He should have noticed, but they must have slipped in while he'd been distracted. He'd failed. 

"Everyone get down on the floor," the leader spoke, climbing onto the counter before the tellers. One man circled around the counters to watch the people. They knew about the panic buttons. Kakashi drew his phone, but he felt the gun press against his temple and slowly released his hold on the phone. The man grabbed Kakashi's phone and pocketed it, nodding once to the leader. "This will all be over soon. Akasuna, Senpai, get the money. I'll watch the hostages."

Hostages. Kakashi looked around at the people on the ground, then he felt the gun tap against his temple. He joined the people, sinking to the level of a hostage. He hoped that Akasuna would ignore the taser and pepper spray, but the person confiscated them. Kakashi had nothing to defend himself except years of self-defense training and the slow build of fear and adrenaline. The leader had the tellers circle around the counter, all four of them joining customers on the floor. No one had access to the panic buttons. The man checked the offices one by one, drawing out more people. He dragged Kurenai out by her hair and shoved her to her knees on the ground.

"Did you call anyone?" The leader pressed the gun to the back of her head, finger resting against the trigger. 

"No! No, I didn't!" She started to cry, and Kakashi felt the stirrings of anger. He lifted his head and looked right at the robber. 

"Leave her alone. If she said she didn't call anyone, she didn't call anyone," Kakashi frowned. Kurenai was horrified. The man shoved her the rest of the way to the ground, then started the walk to Kakashi. "You're awfully brave holding an unarmed woman at gunpoint," Kakashi snorted, speaking past the fear. 

"Maybe you'd like to volunteer yourself?"

"Go ahead."

"I think I will," the man replied, grabbing Kakashi by the back of his shirt and hauling him up to his knees. The gun was suddenly at Kakashi's chest, right over his heart. "Hatake, huh? Like Sakumo, the White Fang?"

"So you know about my father," Kakashi rolled his eyes, getting a quick slap to the face with the man's gun. Kakashi grunted and snapped his mouth closed. 

"I think I've heard of you, _Kakashi_," the man purred, leaning in to be at Kakashi's level. "Friend killer Kakashi. You fatally wounded a fellow officer and you were fired from the force. Now you're some washed up security guard," he snorted, going on to laugh. 

"Cops in bound," a voice announced from a walkie at the man's hip. "All squads responding. Someone made a call before the lines were cut. We're ready to go. Get out."

"Akasuna, Senpai, we're blowing this place," the man called. He received two affirmative responses. 

Kakashi took that moment to grab the gun at his chest. The two started wrestling, the gun caught between them. Someone had a finger on the trigger and the gun went off, the sound deafening in the silence. Someone shouted Kakashi's name. Someone called for Tobi. The two accomplices slid across the counter and raced over to the toppled men. Akasuna pulled Tobi off of Kakashi, while Senpai placed a boot on Kakashi's chest. Akasuna searched Tobi, pulling at clothing, patting at the man's front. His hand came back with blood. 

"Don't!" Senpai barely had time to yell before Akasuna dragged Kakashi up and started punching. Kakashi deflected blows, but one got through and had him falling to the side. He tasted blood on his tongue. "Fuck. We're screwed. So much for in and out, hm," Senpai muttered, stepping between Kakashi and Akasuna. 

"Where are you? We hear sirens!" The walkie crackled and the two standing looked to Obito, then each other. 

"Go," Tobi mumbled, breathing labored. "Damn it. This hurts. Just go, alright? Deliver the money. I'll be alright. Leave me some bullets." Akasuna moved first, emptying his clip and stuffing the bullets into Tobi's large front pocket. Senpai hesitated, but followed. 

"We're on the way. Exit on twenty-third," Senpai spoke into the walkie.

"They're three minutes out," the person responded. 

"We can take you. We'll get you help," Akasuna spoke, a hushed few words following. Tobi patted the man's chest and forced himself to a seated position. "Let's go," Akasuna announced, grabbing Senpai and darting for the employee entrance. The electronic locks clicked.

They left Tobi to die. 

Kakashi sat up and looked over at Tobi. The wound wept, blood darkening the fabric. Kakashi had done that; he'd killed someone else. Tobi looked around at the people, most of them huddled together. Even though the doors were open, people refused to move, afraid of the loaded gun in Tobi's hand. Kakashi heard the sirens, then he heard car doors slamming. Police approached the door, but Obito fired a warning shot. The police saw the hostages crowded together and chose to move away. They didn't have much of a choice. Tobi pressed a hand over his midsection, applying pressure to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Kakashi saw Kurenai start to inch toward the door and he shook his head at her. Tobi watched the exchange, then he fired a shot at Kurenai. The bullet missed her by a few inches, and Kakashi chose to believe that the man missed on purpose. He could have killed her, but he chose not to, which Kakashi found odd. The man had nothing to lose. If Tobi lived, the man would go right to jail.

"Everyone, there's been a change of plans," Tobi announced. People whispered amongst themselves. so Tobi cleared his throat to quiet them. "Get out."

"You're letting us go?" Kakashi frowned, clearly confused. Tobi pointed the gun toward the group of people, then to the door. When Kakashi moved, Tobi pointed the gun at him. "You said to get out," Kakashi said, motioning toward the people running for the door.

"Not you, Ka-ka-shi," Tobi said, emphasizing the name. Kakashi sighed and settled back onto the floor. The final person exited the building, leaving Kakashi alone with the gunman. Tobi hissed in pain, then he collapsed onto his back and stared up at the flickering lights. The sprinklers had stopped the moment the doors were unlocked, though they left the floors and other surfaces wet and cold. "You didn't have to shoot me, you bastard. All I wanted was the money," Tobi sighed, one hand still pressed to his injury.

"You and your friends had guns. What did you expect?"

"I expected a clean getaway."

"You should have gone with your friends."

"I needed to buy them time to get away," Tobi said, his voice quiet. 

Kakashi saw the man underneath the sunglasses, the mask, the wig, and the baseball cap. Kakashi felt the familiar stirrings of guilt, so he reached up to try and wring the water from his hair. He didn't want to think about the man being another casualty. Good versus bad never really worked, something that had taken Kakashi years to truly grasp. The world existed in shades of grey. Tobi stayed on the floor, legs stretched out, until Kakashi dragged himself to his feet.

"Are you going to shoot me if I go to the bathroom?"

"Can't you hold it until after I'm dead? I don't want to move."

"You're a terrible bank robber," Kakashi said, rolling his eyes. Tobi pressed his hands against the floor, water sliding between spread fingers, and pushed himself up. Tobi closed the distance between them and threw an arm around Kakashi's shoulders. "You expect me to drag you to the bathroom with me?"

"I might know a few things about you, but I don't really know you, so I don't trust you. If I live long enough, you might be my ticket to the hospital instead of the grave. I'm not letting you go." Tobi squeezed Kakashi close, as if knowing about Kakashi's love for personal space. Kakashi regretted showing up for his shift; he regretted not playing dead when he had the chance. His jaw still hurt from where Akasuna took that shot. "Come on. You're moving too slow," Tobi complained, poking the gun into Kakashi's ribs. 

"I have a lot of baggage right now," Kakashi frowned, swatting the gun away from his body. Tobi elbowed him instead. When they reached the employee restroom, Kakashi stopped in front of the door. "Well," Kakashi said, waiting for Tobi to move. 

"Well you aren't going on the floor right here are you?"

"You're going to hold me at gunpoint while I piss?"

"Because of that? Yes. Yes, I am."

Kakashi gritted his teeth and kicked the door open. He let Tobi struggle along behind, having left the man in the hallway. While Kakashi slipped into a stall, Tobi leaned against the wall, right next to the door. The bathroom had a window, but the window didn't open. Kakashi had hoped for some time alone to see if he could break it and escape out into the alley. One glance over his shoulder ruined that plan. Tobi wasn't a stereotypical bank robber. The guy seemed rather ordinary, albeit easily accepting of his impending death. Kakashi had expected tears and pleas; instead, he got snark. Kakashi made a show of flushing, even though they both knew he hadn't actually gone to the restroom. Tobi rushed him to the door, but he shook his head and pointed to a sign over the sink. Employees must wash hands. As if they were a restaurant instead of a bank. Kakashi still had soap bubbles on his hands, but Tobi grabbed a fistful of Kakashi's shirt and dragged him out of the bathroom. Apparently, Tobi had enough strength for that. 

Back in the main room of the bank, Tobi released his hold on Kakashi and gave him a shove toward one of the offices, Kurenai's office. He remembered the phone. And then it rang, as if answering a prayer. Tobi shoved Kakashi into a chair and claimed the one right next to him. Tobi reached across the desk and grabbed the phone, but Kakashi saw the brief hesitation, the way the man's fingers touched the cord before finally grasping the phone. 

"Konoha United," Tobi chirped, completely taking Kakashi by surprise. "Ah. I see. No, I don't have any other hostages. It's just me and Kakashi now. I decided to keep him all to myself. It'd be a great story if you got the son of the White Fang killed. How about a headline for the murder of a disgraced former cop? Cops striking back. Hm?" Tobi chuckled, then reached up to pull the hat and wig from his head, allowing Kakashi to see the messy black hair underneath. "If you think I'm stupid enough to negotiate for money you'll rake off of my corpse, you're insane. Fine. Kakashi? Say hello to Fugaku."

"Uh, hello?" Kakashi had leaned forward to speak into the offered phone, then Tobi pulled it back and resumed talking. Kakashi shifted his attention to the window. Red and blue lights flashed outside, lighting up the plain white blinds. He heard the click of the phone meeting the base, signaling the end of the call. He didn't remember moving, but he found himself near the window, then he felt Tobi grab the back of his shirt again.

"Stay away from windows and doors. They'll shoot you too. This police force is trigger happy," Tobi spoke, breath warm on Kakashi's neck. Kakashi took a seat behind the desk, while Tobi simply hopped onto the mahogany desk. Legs crossed at the ankles, one hand over his gunshot wound, Tobi took a moment to breathe through the pain. "So you're a security guard now. That's a nice fall from police officer," Tobi began, a clear attempt at small talk. 

"That happens when you shoot a plainclothes officer in the back," Kakashi shrugged, as if the memories didn't claw away at his insides. The bullet. The blood. His name on her lips. Rin. Kakashi closed his eyes. When he opened them, he saw that Tobi had lost the sunglasses, revealing a black eyepatch over Tobi's left eye. 

"Sometimes," Tobi answered, confusing Kakashi. Tobi sighed, then rubbed at his right temple. "It depends on who you shoot. If they aren't from Konoha, they matter less. If they aren't from a mainstream religion, they matter less. You just shot the wrong person. Hey, maybe it was the time of the year too. Maybe the news had nothing else to report," Tobi continued. Kakashi stared at him for a few long minutes, the ticking of the wall clock creating a background to their heavy conversation. "Don't tell me you're a recluse when it comes to this stuff. Even I know about it, and I spend my days slaving over a grill."

"I didn't expect you to sound so," Kakashi trailed off, eyeing him, "liberal?"

"I can blow your mind with conspiracy theories, if that's your thing, Kakashi," Tobi smirked, swinging his legs. Kakashi narrowed his eyes and leaned in, trying to see something on Tobi's exposed face. "Getting stockholm syndrome vibes?"

"Hm. No, surprisingly."

"Not even a little?"

"Well," Kakashi stalled, tapping his chin, "no. Not even a little." He smiled behind his mask and Tobi's visible eye darted upwards in irritation. The phone rang again, so Tobi pointed the gun at Kakashi, silently urging him to answer the phone. Sighing, Kakashi grabbed the phone. "Konoha United," Kakashi mumbled, rolling his eyes at Tobi's vague hand motions.

"Hatake?"

"Fugaku?"

"Are you injured?"

Kakashi looked over at Tobi, eyes moving from the man's eye to the blood on the black hooded sweatshirt. Tobi would die there. Kakashi would have more blood on his hands. Kakashi turned the chair around, leaving his back to Tobi.

"Yes. We'll need a first aid kit and he's asking for," Kakashi paused, considering what he wanted for lunch, what Tobi wanted for a last meal, "sushi." Fugaku swore, something so odd for the put-together man. Kakashi had never heard him swear. Tobi knocked the butt of the gun against the back of Kakashi's head. "That's all for now." Kakashi didn't wait for a response before hanging up.

"I want what? I don't want sushi! What if that shortens my list of demands? I want dango," Tobi decided, motioning toward the phone. Kakashi didn't move. 

"I can't just call them back. They didn't leave a callback number," Kakashi smiled, eyes crinkling in the corners. "I got you a first aid kit. Be happy with that."

"Great. My doctor, the great Hatake Kakashi, assisted by the patient himself, Uchiha Obito," Obito said, outing himself. Kakashi blinked a few times, lips parted in shock. "You would have found out anyway. That's my name. I'm the distant, unwanted relative of the police chief. Pretty great, huh?" Obito scratched at his left elbow with the butt of the gun, a crooked smile on his face. 

"So you just decided to be a criminal then? You woke up and decided to rob a bank?"

"Technically, someone else suggested it, and it was in the early morning, before I'd gone to bed, so no. It took some thought," Obito said, nodding to himself. Kakashi decided that Obito was insane. "Look, I have my reasons."

"This is really serious, Obito. I don't think you understand what it is that you're doing. You have a hostage and you're holed up in a bank. When are they going to get tired of calling? They can throw in tear gas and enter the bank. And then what? Are you going to use me again? Are we going to drive off into the sunset?"

"The sunset sounds pretty nice, actually. I like sunsets," Obito smiled, eye closing for a moment. "I mean, I don't know about a commitment, but I'd sleep with you."

"Are you going to spend the rest of our time together hitting on me?"

"Probably. Who has the gun?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tend to favor Obito in the KakaObi pairing, and I felt like correcting that in this chapter, so I hope no one minded the POV change.


	4. Surrender

They couldn't retrieve the bullet. When he found Obito digging into the wound, Kakashi had intervened and taken the tweezers away. Kakashi applied a bandage over the wound and instructed Obito to apply pressure, to keep applying pressure, until a future time. Neither one discussed the two outcomes, mostly because Obito anticipated death, and Kakashi wasn't an optimist. They stayed in Kurenai's office for about an hour before the phone rang again. Obito had gone through the desk drawers and found sour candies, but Kakashi told Obito not to eat or drink anything, just in case. Just in case. As if Obito would survive long enough for real medical attention. Obito took the phone call then.

"Where's my sushi?" Obito didn't bother with formalities. He'd never liked Fugaku. The man was serious, a by-the-book type of police chief, while Obito preferred to walk to the beat of his own drum. Still, there had been a time when Obito had considered law enforcement, a time when Obito had his shit together.

"We're working on it. How is Hatake?" 

"He's fine. Let's add something else to my list of demands."

"What could you possibly want now?"

Obito covered the receiver and looked to Kakashi. Kakashi turned the chair away from the window to face Obito. Sometime during their occupation of Kurenai's office, the press had arrived on the scene. Obito heard them reporting, getting as close to the building as the police allowed, as if a gunman weren't beyond the windows, hidden away in the bank. Obito really wanted food, but he let his eyes roam Kakashi's body. He considered asking for lube and condoms, just to see Kakashi's reaction, just to hear Fugaku sputter and fall apart. They would assume the worst though, and Obito knew they would throw the tear gas. 

"Porn," Kakashi answered, causing Obito to drop the phone. "_Makeout Paradise_. All of the volumes."

"I'm not going to ask for porn!" Obito scrubbed a hand over his face and Kakashi flashed him a smile. Obito knew. "Ask for something else," Obito huffed. Fugaku didn't repeat the question. He'd never been the type to repeat himself; people answered him. 

"_Makeout Paradise_," Kakashi repeated. 

"Fuck. Fine!" Obito closed his visible eye and counted to ten, then he uncovered the receiver. He licked his lips, knowing Kakashi watched him. "I want _Makeout Paradise_. All of the volumes. And throw in a pack of cards. I'm bored."

"I know it's you, Obito. How long do you think I'm going to play this game?"

"Goodbye!"

Obito hung up on the man, avoiding the question, hating the thought of going down that slippery slope. Some part of him had hoped that Fugaku wouldn't learn his identity. He'd wanted anonymity. How silly of him to think that Fugaku wouldn't recognize his voice. Fugaku wasn't a fool. Obito stared at Kakashi, taking in the man's relaxed posture. They'd been together for an hour, and Obito wondered when the hostage situation had devolved into two men enjoying a retreat. Maybe when he'd shared his name. Maybe when he'd removed the hat.

"If we could go anywhere, where would you want to go?" Obito didn't know why he'd asked the question. To daydream. To escape.

"Bold of you to assume I'd want to go anywhere with you," Kakashi replied, another hidden smile shared between them. Obito opened his mouth to insult Kakashi, but the man shrugged his shoulders. "Somewhere with snow. I hate the heat."

"Then let's go into the mountains."

"Since I'll probably lose my job over this, why not?"

"I guess being dead kind of ruins it, doesn't it?"

The phone rang again, so Obito motioned at Kakashi to answer. Fugaku had managed to collect the food, books, and cards, so Obito only needed to collect the items. Obito didn't need to keep Kakashi at gunpoint while they walked to the front doors, but he felt better thinking that he still had control over the situation. Blood loss left him feeling dizzy and tired, but he forced himself to keep moving. He grabbed Kakashi's arm and twisted it behind the man's back. Obito kicked open the first set of doors, then repeated the action with the next set. Gun at Kakashi's temple, Obito used Kakashi as a shield. An officer kicked a box over to Obito, and Obito had Kakashi collect it from the ground. Fugaku stood in front, a deep frown on his face. The man looked old. Obito knew his actions contributed to the stress lines. After Obito stepped into the bank, he lowered the gun from Kakashi's temple and they retreated to the office again. 

Kakashi ate most of the sushi, since Obito felt sick. Obito picked one of the books out of the box and flipped through the pages. He'd expected pictures. Every page was filled with words, some of them explicit, some of them quite romantic. 

"I expected pictures," Obito said, not hiding his own disappointment. Kakashi finished off the sushi, then he chuckled. "Does this do it for you?"

"Rarely. It's softcore porn, honestly. Being held at gunpoint really does it for me."

"Really?"

"No. Not really." Kakashi smiled, his eyes closing for a moment. Obito blushed and reached up to rub the back of his head. He waited for Kakashi to pick up one of the books, but the man went for the playing cards. "Do you want to play blackjack?"

"I have a gambling problem," Obito admitted, nibbling on his bottom lip. He had nothing at stake, nothing to gain and nothing to lose. Sighing, Obito snatched the cards from Kakashi and started shuffling the deck. He just wanted to show off, to impress the man. "Let's make it interesting. If I win, best three out of five, I want to kiss you."

"If I win, I want you to surrender," Kakashi stated. "The next time the phone rings, I want you to really negotiate." Obito didn't know if he could go through with that, so he hesitated to accept the agreement. When Kakashi looked ready to decide for him, Obito nodded. 

Kakashi won every round. Obito thought about going back on his word, but he had little left but his word. Forty minutes later, when the phone rang, Kakashi lowered his book and watched Obito reach for the phone. Obito pressed the phone to his ear and listened to Fugaku greet him once, knowing the man wouldn't repeat himself. 

"I want to surrender," Obito spoke, his voice soft. He lacked the strength for much more. The dizziness had gotten worse, and he'd developed a stabbing headache. He'd accepted death -- he thought he'd accepted death -- but he wasn't ready. Kakashi reached out and touched Obito's right leg, as if providing support. "I want to surrender," Obito repeated, voice firm.

"Release the hostage, and come out with your hands up," Fugaku instructed. "You have ten minutes, or we're coming in." The line went dead, but Obito held onto the phone. Kakashi had to pry it from his hand.

"Is it too late for another bet?"

"Yes."

"I guess I don't have much of a choice," Obito mumbled to himself. Kakashi heard; Obito knew Kakashi had heard. Obito took the gun from the desk and offered it to Kakashi. Kakashi emptied the bullets, then took Obito's hand and helped him to his feet. "What will we do when we get to the mountains?"

Obito didn't know why his mind had returned to that topic, but everything hinged on the conversation. Kakashi hummed in thought. "We could build snowmen," Kakashi suggested, another smile for Obito. Obito laughed, because he couldn't picture Kakashi playing in the snow. They were too old for that, but his imagination ran wild. "We could make snow angels," Kakashi continued. 

"Yeah," Obito said, more images coming to mind. They'd reached the doors, by that point, and Obito slowed from a crawl to a complete stop. "I'm sorry about your job, but I didn't hate spending time with you."

"I didn't hate spending time with you either," Kakashi responded, opening the first set of doors. The second set followed. When they were outside, Obito saw the guns aim, one by one. "Don't do anything stupid," Kakashi warned him. 

"I'm pretty scared right now," Obito mumbled, eyes lowered. 

Kakashi pulled away from him, though the man remained at Obito's side. Slowly, Obito raised his hands, palms facing the police and reporters. A stabbing pain had him flinching, and the movement was too much. He heard the gun, then he fell to the ground. Kakashi dropped down beside him. Obito watched the man's lips move, but he couldn't hear the words. He heard the gun firing, over and over again, that single moment on repeat. Kakashi told him that everything would be fine, but Obito couldn't read the man's lips. He remembered closing his eyes. When he opened them, he was in the back of an ambulance. Kakashi stood outside, a cop separating Kakashi from the ambulance. Obito raised a hand, fingers twitching for a moment, then he lowered his hand. Obito thought about the mountains then, about steep snowy peaks and nights by the fireplace. They belonged there. The ambulance doors closed and Obito lost the battle to remain conscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All done! Sorry it's so short; this chapter actually wasn't supposed to exist, but I kept writing. Oops? I also changed the ending for this. As I was editing (and let's use that term lightly to cover my own ass if anyone discovers mistakes), I decided to leave it open ended, rather than hint at Obito's death. I thought about picking this up later, either during the month of October for another addition to Whumptober or some other time, but I decided against it. I'm the type of person that forgets and that means I have a lot of trouble jumping back into stories. :(


End file.
